


Sherlollipops - Tribute

by MizJoely



Series: 221 Sherlollipops [36]
Category: Sherlock (TV), The Lord of the Rings (Movies)
Genre: F/M, Sherlock is Smaug, Sherlolly - Freeform, Smaug-as-Sherlock - Freeform, Smut, smauglolly, sort of
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-09-01
Updated: 2014-09-01
Packaged: 2018-02-15 17:42:21
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,213
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2237799
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MizJoely/pseuds/MizJoely
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Anon on tumblr said: Smauglock! and I did my best to comply with (of course) Smauglolly-Sherlolly.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Sherlollipops - Tribute

He knew better than to take a human as tribute; he should have simply killed her and been done with it. But there was something about the petite figure that captured his attention, and he’d already eaten this century, and besides, sometimes his cavern with its hoard of gold and jewels could be lonely.

There was also the simple fact that it had been many centuries since he’d mated, and she was comely, well-shaped and obedient to his commands as he accepted her from the fearful villagers begging him to leave them in peace for another decade.

As soon as they’d begun their long journey down his mountain, Smaug the Magnificent allowed himself to take the humanoid form he’d long denied himself, appearing to the girl as she gasped and trembled at the unexpected transformation. “Come,” he said simply, tugging at her hand, leading her deeper into his lair. He needed no lanterns, no torches to light his way, but she cried out softly as she stumbled into something in the dark, and he swung her into his arms as he strode confidently on.

"Wh-where are you taking me? What do you want of me?" she asked, her voice trembling with fear. He could feel the quaking of her limbs as she twined her arms around his neck, the rapid beating of her heart and the heaviness of her breathing, and smiled to himself.

Still, she’d asked the questions, and such bravery deserved an honest answer. “To my bedchamber, little human,” he replied, turning his head so that his lips were only inches from her own. “I have been alone for far too many centuries, and I wish companionship. And you shall live as long as you continue to please me, to serve me. Do you understand?”

"Y-yes," she breathed, but her scent no longer spoke of fear, but of…surely that wasn’t…but yes, it was. His smile deepened and he inhaled deeply; the sweet young thing now smelled entirely of arousal, desire, and he quickened his pace, soon reaching the desired chamber. With a mumbled spell the long-disused torches in their sconces burst into flame, and he heard her cry out softly in wonder at the sight of his human bedchamber. There were piles of gold coins, of course, but they were generously covered by thick piles of the softest furs, gathered up by his own claws or delivered to him as tribute by trembling, fearful humans. He was worshiped almost as a god in this land, and it was a good life he’d made for himself. 

A good life, but, as he’d already acknowledged, a lonely one. He carefully set his sweet burden on her feet, her soft white robes whispering about her bare ankles as she steadied herself by holding onto his arms. She continued to stare in wonder and delight, and he preened a bit when her eyes fell on him with the same expression. Still no fear, but definitely a sharpening of the desire as she took in his lean, muscular - and entirely naked - form.

His own desire had stirred as he carried her, and he watched complacently as her eyes settled on his jutting erection. Her expression finally altered as she examined him, her first naked man since the villagers had assured him she was a virgin - not that it mattered - from wonder to a sort of avariciousness that stirred something primal in his dragonish heart. Like calling to like, he supposed as he pulled her to him and claimed her mouth with a possessive, claiming kiss.

"What is your name, little morsel?" he asked when the kiss ended. His hands slid up her back, tugging at the ties to her simple garment. In expectation of her not needing clothing for very long, she’d been clad in the white cotton gown and given no undergarments, only light sandals gracing her feet. Both were soon discarded, lying on the stone floor as he pulled her into his arms for another kiss. This time she opened her mouth beneath his without needing any encouragement, her tongue twining shyly with his and soft moans escaping her lips.

He laid her down on the nearest heap of furs, soft white ermine, and her hair fanned out behind her head in a pleasing contrast. He kissed his way down her throat as she moaned again, and again he asked for her name.

"Molly," she gasped as his lips settled on one rosy breast, his hand toying idly with the other. "Molly, of the Hooper clan."

"No," he said, lifting his head to glower at her. "No longer of the Hooper clan. You belong to me now, Molly. Say it," he added, suddenly needing to hear her acquiescence. "Say you belong to me."

"I belong to you," she gasped, reaching up to thread hesitant fingers through his dark curls. "Only to you, O Smaug."

"Sherlock," he said as he dipped his head down and stroked his tongue along her soft belly. "My name is Sherlock. Smaug," he added as he reached her sex and sniffed deeply, approvingly of her heady musk, "is simply a title all of my kind bear. And now, shall I taste you? Or shall I simply take you as mine?"

"Taste," she gasped out, blushing hotly, the flush spreading from her cheeks to her pale torso. He grinned and dipped his head down lower, once more breathing in the intoxicating scent of her before doing as she bade him to. The first stroke of his tongue on her sex tore a cry from her throat, as much of surprise as pleasure, and by the time he’d turned his attention to her hidden pearl, she’d lost any ability to speak coherently, was simply mewling and gasping as she writhed beneath him. He felt her closing in on her release and quickened his movements, reaching up to tweak her nipples, wrenching a great cry from her throat as she shuddered and thrashed her way through her climax.

When she finally stilled, he raised himself above her, taking himself in hand and pressing the blunt head of his prick against her sopping wet opening. “Tell me you want me,” he growled, eyes glittering dragon-bright as they met hers. “Tell me, little Molly.”

"I do, I want you!" she gasped out, her hands on his shoulders, tugging him closer. No further encouragement needed he pressed into her, feeling the slightest resistance as he breached her barrier, then suddenly he was fully seated inside her, and she was panting beneath him, eyes wide with amazement as she felt his hardness inside her.

"More," she whimpered, bucking her hips experimentally. He laughed, and captured her lips for another kiss as he began his own movements, teaching her without words how to move with him, feeling his climax approaching far sooner than he would have liked. Ah, well, such was the price of a lengthy abstinence; next time, he vowed, he would make love to her for hours on end, teach her about a dragon’s endurance…and eventually offer to turn her into one of his kind.

Then oblivion overtook him, the sweetest oblivion he’d ever experienced; and when he came, he called out, “My Molly!” in an exultant roar that echoed through the caverns.


End file.
